


kisses (but not really)

by Bluecoeur (vietbluefic)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (though not so much denial as it is refusal), (well. sorta? canon wobbly), Affection, Angst and Fluff, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Loneliness, Magic as a Love Language, Mentions of Self-hatred, Nipping/Biting, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Public Display of Affection, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, non-sexual biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26411305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vietbluefic/pseuds/Bluecoeur
Summary: In which Jester and Caleb give each other kisses — except they're really not kisses, not really.(Or;A tiefling cleric and a squishy wizard human show their love in vastly different ways.)
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	kisses (but not really)

**Author's Note:**

> Over the last few weeks, I've become really fond of this dynamic, and I felt super inspired to write something that kinda touches upon Jester and Caleb's particular love languages, or at least ideas for them! Jester seems so up-in-your-face and physical while Caleb is much more subdued and magic-focal. It's super nice and so I wrote this out at 2 AM last night (this morning?) after the stream for Episode 109.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading!

At first, Caleb did entertain the thought that Jester just wanted to eat him.

It didn’t help that Nott (before she became Veth once more) would often point out the young woman’s sharp, white fangs. “They’re perfect for gnashing!” the goblin would declare. “Just right for ripping people open! Chomping up bones! Gobbling up handsome, clever, red-headed wizards who aren’t watching their backs! So! Be careful, Caleb. You never know!”

Well. It was — weird, to say the least. Jester never broke _skin,_ of course. The first time she did it to _him,_ he’d had his back to her. Jester lounged on the bed of their inn room while he hunched over his spellbook, transcribing a new equation on the floor. And with a playful little “ _Raaagh!_ ” she’d leaned forward, put her hands on his shoulder blades, and sank her teeth into the small of his back.

Very, very lightly. He’d barely felt it at all: a damp little prickle along the bumps of his spine. Still, Caleb jumped as if electrocuted, surged to his feet and nearly toppled onto his butt whirling around to face her. Jester clapped both hands over her face, and fell backwards, laughing and laughing.

“Oh no, Caleb! Did I scare you really bad?” Her eyes curled like tiny moons over her grin. She opened her mouth happily and said, “I mean, I can’t blame you, I _am_ super scary. You totally saw me beat up those cultists from, like, three days ago, right?”

“Ah— Yes, I did see? Um.”

He looked down at her — at her dark horns and bright expression and smeared-ink-blue skin — and suddenly he had to drop his eyes as dim panic sparked up his throat. They barely knew each other, a scant few weeks’ acquaintance. Yet she joked and sang and giggled at his scruffy beard with a guileless ease. She turned his stomach in knots, and he didn’t know how to respond. How to reciprocate. Caleb swallowed.

“You, ahh, you… Are you bored? It is okay, if you are.” He fidgeted. “I know I am not…not very exciting when I am in my books.”

But Jester shook her head and said, cheery, “No, I’m fine! Oh, maybe I’ll paint for a little, though, I should show the Traveler the really cool treasure room we found!” Then she’d pulled out her journal, and that had been that. Caleb stared at her only a moment longer before he returned to his books, baffled.

 _Maybe Nott was right,_ he thought. _It’s a tiefling thing._

And anyways she didn’t do it to just him. Beauregard, Veth, Yasha, Caduceus, even Fjord tended to receive a great many of her affectionate bites. She’d nibble Beauregard’s topknot, Veth’s cheeks, Yasha’s biceps, Caduceus’s fuzzy ears and Fjord’s smooth shoulders. Once with Mollymauk, she’d crouched low behind him, watching his long, pronged tail whip slowly through the air. Then, as Caleb had looked on in bemusement, Jester pounced, parted her teeth, and _nipped_ the tip of Mollymauk’s tail.

Molly had yelped and swore, and mad-dashed after Jester, who squealed laughter when at last he caught up and snagged her in a headlock. It was a sweet scene, especially as Mollymauk nipped her back, all over her little blue face.

 _See,_ Caleb thought, and flipped another page in his book. _It is nothing so special. Just another thing that makes Jester…Jester._

So when she decided to skip up to him, and gently bite his cheek in lieu of a thank-you kiss, he let her.

When she spotted Frumpkin chewing on his sleeves, and pretended to do the same, he let her.

When she leaned against him during late-night watches, and afterwards she tugged his ear good-night with her teeth, before snuggling into her bedroll, he let her.

When he got drunk, and she danced with him, and he ended up calling her the wrong name and staggering away and she tucked him into bed—

She whispered to him kindly, bent down to nibble his cheek and boop his nose.

And he _let_ her.

And Caleb, stupid, blind, weak-hearted Caleb, didn’t _think_ anything of it until that exact moment.

And then he _did._ And _oh._

And then he hated himself, because it was so, so _stupid._

_No, I can’t do that,_ he cried at himself. _Not to her. Not with me._

It was such a dumb, useless feeling — the same way it was dumb and useless how his neck began to flush, and his heart begin to quicken, whenever Jester put her head close to his and scrunched up her eyes and laughed and laughed and laughed, as if that was precisely what she’d been born to do. To be bright and bubbly, and just a touch bawdy, too. To smile so widely. To live so eagerly.

To love so fiercely and openly, that when she picked up Caleb’s wrist and latched her fangs onto his thumb playfully, what else could he do but stare at her, and smile at her, and think not without a sharp pang through his heart: _Yes, Jester. I love you, too._

_I love you, too._

~ ~ ) ☼ ( ~ ~

Caleb was — all things considered — a pretty nice guy!

Weird, too, yeah. But sweet, and quiet, and funny sometimes in a way she couldn’t ever predict. When he cast a spell so that it looked like just Fjord was wearing a bathrobe through the Bright Queen’s palace, it was the _funniest_ thing and Jester had been so happy that he did it! Caleb was kind in an uncertain, fumbly sort of way, which Jester thought particularly lovely, with its own unique flavor.

Honestly. Jester liked that he was a little mysterious. Caleb was broody and vague and kinda frustrating, in an okay way. But she also liked that he was just trying to be good. Because he used to be bad? Maybe. Lots of hints said he might’ve been; she knew he believed so for sure. But then, Jester also thought he was _wrong,_ and Caleb already _was_ good. Really good! He listened to her. He promised to bring her home. He sat or stood still when she talked, and looked her in the eye, and his own eyes were blue. Not _her-_ blue, berry-blue and the-sea-at-night-blue — but true _blue-_ blue. Blue like all blue things should always be. She couldn’t explain.

Anyways: so she liked his blue, and she liked his quiet, and she liked that he tried. Caleb always tried. Even though Jester poked fun at him for never wanting to take his face out of his books, she did understand wanting to improve. To keep being better at something. And if there was one thing Caleb kept getting better and better at, it was his magic.

Oh! She _really_ liked his magic. After all, Caleb’s magic made Frumpkin, and Frumpkin was just the best ever. But also Caleb’s magic made warm lights, and safe huts, and funny little illusions that flapped around her head, phallic butterflies and hamster unicorns. Whenever he cast spells, his magic thrummed and hissed sparks along her skin, and felt the way a living room did when heated by stone fireplaces, and you’d just stepped inside from a rainstorm. Yes. Just like that.

She used to tease him about being stinky. But not anymore. Caleb smelled wonderful. And yes a _little tiny bit_ stinky still, because his spell components were all rocks and chalk and squishy icky stuff, like bat poop and phosphorus. But mostly he smelled like candles, and paper, and a peppery undertone that was pure, true _him._

“Jester?”

Also: like a sweet potato. Specifically, the roasted one in his hand.

“Oh! Hi, Cay-leb! Ohmigosh, did you get suckered by the potato seller, too? He _almost_ got me, but I really wanted dessert so I ran away before he could convince me to buy!”

“Well, ehm. I suppose if you put it like that, then I did get ‘suckered.’ Unlucky of me.”

He smiled, just a little bit, and his hand squeezed around the leaf-wrapped snack. The roasted potato emitted a wave of steam into his face, silver against the black night air. Caleb peered at her with those (blue! blue!) eyes, and Jester felt her heart do cartwheels.

“But is there, ah. Is there a reason you’re sitting here all alone, Jester?”

“We-ell…”

 _Yes,_ was the truth. _No,_ was what she wanted to say. Neither felt good and right, so instead Jester blurted out, “OhIdon’tknowmaybeIjustsuddenlyfeltlikekindabeingbymyself _Idunno!_ ” and then crammed the rest of her crêpe into her mouth.

Which, in retrospect, was totally dumb; it was a super good crêpe. Cream and chocolate drizzle and strawberries. She chewed sadly and kicked herself for not savoring it slower. Meanwhile, Caleb regarded her without a word. Then he sighed, and Jester perked up when he sat down beside her and offered her the sweet potato.

“I understand,” he said. “Sometimes being around other people gets to be too much, too.”

She swallowed. “I-I mean… It’s not like I don’t want to be. I just…”

There were no words. How could Jester explain standing in the middle of a crowd, and out of nowhere being struck with the realization that even surrounded by people, by her own _friends_ all around — she felt so incredibly, unbelievably _lost?_

She couldn’t. So she didn’t.

The sounds of the festival fell heavy in the silence between them.

Then, Caleb cleared his throat. “You know,” he said, “there’s something I can show you — a little spell. Do you want to see?”

“Oh! Yes, please!” Jester said and at once felt brighter, intrigued and excited by the prospect of more Caleb-magic. “Is it something super, super cool?!”

“Oh, well, er. Nothing very dramatic, I’m afraid.” But Caleb smiled and motioned towards his face. “You know how to whistle, Jester?”

“Ooh— A little! My teeth make it sound all funny, but I can do it.”

“ _Ja,_ that is good, good. Listen to what I do.”

And then Caleb whistled: a short, six-note tune that dipped then rose and made Jester want to keep it going, continue it into a proper song. But Caleb did those six notes only — and then _poof!_ It was Frumpkin!

“Ahhh, hi, Frumpy!”

Jester squealed and threw her arms open for the mottled cat to jump in. Frumpkin purred, hard enough to shiver her arms, and Jester made nonsense noises at him while in her periphery she saw Caleb’s smile melt into something kinder, warmer. It looked the way caramel tasted, and Jester felt her tail curl and twine around her leg shyly. She looked up and bounced on her heels.

Grinning, she said, “So, he’s _totally_ mine now, right? You’re giving him to me to have forever and ever and ever?”

Caleb immediately went red, sputtering in protest. “Eh, _nein,_ that’s not—”

She laughed. He opened his mouth, stared at her, then shut it again with a funny expression she wasn’t sure how to read right. Caleb looked down and said, “No, but… It’s a very tiny spell.” Looked up. “Can you repeat it for me? The whistle?”

“Okay!”

She did so. Six notes, dipping then rising. The smile returned to Caleb’s face and he nodded, looking happy.

“Good, that’s perfect. Remember that, but don’t whistle it again unless you really need it. Magic like this wears the more you use it. But this is, ah, something that will come in handy for you, I hope.”

“Really?” Jester hugged Frumpkin to her chest and said, “Will it poof Frumpkin to me whenever I whistle it?”

“No, not quite. Not always. It’s… Um. It’s to call someone to you. For when you are feeling lost, or lonely.”

Oh.

Caleb reached out, then, to stroke Frumpkin’s ears. This close, Jester could see the tiny shadows cast by his bottom eyelashes over his thin, clean-shaven cheeks. He was handsome, under all the weariness, old sadness and messy red hair. He peeked at her with his blue-blue-blue eyes and — something in them flickered, candlelight, and warmed to soften him further. Soft, soft. Like his hair, and his cat, and the silk of his scarf. Soft.

“You won’t know who or what will come, of course,” he said. “It could be Frumpkin, _ja,_ but it could also be Beau. It could be Yasha, or Fjord, or Veth. Caduceus. A stranger. It could be an animal, or a little buzzing bee, or a strangely-shaped cloud, floating by in the sky, to make you laugh. Knowing you, it’d look like a dick.”

She giggled. He smiled.

“Yes, it could be anyone, or anything. But when you need it, remember that tune, and whistle. And something will come your way to make you smile.”

“Okay.” This time, the word came out very quiet. Jester lifted her hand and tugged on the front of Caleb’s coat. Puzzled, he glanced down, then up at her again. But she just beamed at him until he blushed, then said, “Thank you.”

And in her head, she thought: _But I know who’ll come._

And in her head, she replied: _I love you very much, too._

(They did end up sharing that sweet potato, after all. And it was very, very good.)

**Author's Note:**

> Caleb's little spell is definitely non-D&D, and is in fact based on the ending to "[Two Hearts](http://www.peterbeagle.com/works/shorts/two_hearts.htm)," the short-story-sequel to _The Last Unicorn_ by Peter S. Beagle, a.k.a. my favorite fantasy book of literally all time ever. I've always adored that farewell scene between Molly and Sooz; I thought the quiet reassurance of it suited Caleb and Jester as well. ♥
> 
> [❁ follow me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/vietbluecoeur)   
> 


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